


False Flags - Ghost Ship

by greekowl87



Series: False Flags [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, Angst, Case Fic, Civil War, F/M, Fluff, MSR, Past Lives, Sequel, false flags redux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: A sequel to False Flags Redux. Mulder and Scully attempt to reconnect on a vacation down in the Outer Banks to cope with their new relationship and the ghosts of their entwined past lives while, at the same time, Buckley escapes to try and exact revenge against our two favorite agents.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No beta except myself. It’s cool. I know, I suck at grammar and writing. I tried to catch everything. I think this might be able to stand alone but it would help if you have already read False Flags Redux to understand the universe I have this set in then all the better.
> 
> I have been trying to write this for a few months and I have about four chapters written but I have no schedule for this except try and post when I can. I am in my final semester of grad school, I have a tendency to take on too many projects, I need to prepare for my oral exams, somehow find a job after graduation and I am terrible at time management. Writing False Flags last year was what I did to break up my school work and save my sanity so it will likely remain the same. 
> 
> But lastly, before everything else, a massive thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm (overt at Tumblr) for posting the original prompt and being my soundbox for the first fic and this one. Other massive thanks to (over at Tumblr) @frangipanidownunder and her @just-fic-already workshops that helped me flesh out the skeletal plot and for being awesome overall. And please, let me know what you think. I'm always eager for feedback.

The weather was unseasonably warm for a March day as Mulder drove down the long stretch of beach highway at a leisurely pace along Hatteras Island. As the sun beat down from above, he smiled at Scully with her eyes closed, wearing those odd rose-colored sunglasses. Her seat lounged back and two bare feet stuck out a partially open window. Dunes whipped passed on side of the highway that separated them from the Atlantic Ocean and on the other side, a grassy dune that separated them from the Pamlico Sound. Bob Marley played softly on the radio and Mulder continued to smile. “You awake, Scully?”

“Mmph.” She lifted her sunglasses and frowned. “What? Are we at the lighthouse yet?”

“Well, not yet, still got another thirty minutes of driving. Why aren’t you awake to enjoy these breathtaking views with me and listening to Bob Marley?”

“Because I am enjoying the warm sun and the sea air, Mulder.” She pulled back down her sunglasses and closed her eyes. “It does my soul good and it was not my idea to come down and go chasing ghost ships.”

“I just said that in passing!” He huffed and rolled his eyes. “I did get us two weeks of vacation. The ghost ships were just an idea. The Graveyard Atlantic lays just offshore and I thought it could be fun. The whole point was for us to just be...us. No work involved.”

“I know, Mulder. I was just teasing.” She smiled. “But I thought Skinner was going to have a heart attack when we both told him and he might have caught onto our rouse. He doesn’t suspect anything, does he?”

“I don’t think so,” Mulder answered. He licked his lips and looked at Scully who still lounged back into the passenger seat. “Um, that was only part of the reason why I wanted to get away.”

“Mulder, don’t bring it up,” she told him shortly.

Her voice brokered no arguments and he shifted uncomfortably. “We need to talk about it, Scully.”

“No. We don’t, Mulder,” she snapped. “Not now. I don’t want to talk about it.” She took a deep breath and sat upright in her seat. She played with the seat control until she was sitting comfortably. “I'm sorry, Mulder.”

“Do you just want to go back to Kitty Hawk tomorrow and stay up there?”

“It doesn't matter, Mulder.”

“To me it does,” he pushed. “That’s the whole point of this vacation! So we could get away from D.C. and the things that have been problematic. We work fine but this new relationship between us has been less than easy.”

At the very end of December, while they had been on a case, something incredible had happened. Both of them had realized past lives and that they shared a happy marriage and future during a time when the country was torn by war. These new memories had spurned them to pursue what was already there, dormant between into something. Both of them realized their past but were eager to make their own future. The first round of IVF had been unsuccessful. They spent the end of that January in her bed, pretzeled together in mourning. Less than two weeks later, with El Rico air base, tensions regarding Diana Fowley, that Scully thought they had moved past, came back. It was almost like Mulder was not himself. But afterward, punctuated with an end-all-be-all argument that almost destroyed them despite all they had been through, a delicate peace had been reached. But with all that, it had been weeks since they had been intimate. Mulder hoped, lured by the prospect of a vacation ghost tours and the beach, they might be able to reconcile or do something more productive.

“Mulder,” she sighed, “I’m here, aren’t I? That should be enough.” On the horizon, the black and white twisted Cape Hatteras Lighthouse came into view along with the small town of Buxton. She rolled down her window further and took a deep breath. “Let’s just enjoy the vacation the best we can. I don’t want to think about the FBI or work, okay? I just want to enjoy this little break away from everything.”

“Okay, Scully.”

She remained quiet and adjusted her sunglasses. There was a lot on her mind too. The failure of the first round of IVF. Fowley. And March 18th was just around the corner. While both of them still remembered their past lives together, she still remembered more vividly than he did. March 18th was the anniversary of their death in 1865. How was it to celebrate the anniversary of your own death? While Francis Buckley was awaiting trial for seven murders and kidnapping federal agents, she still felt uneasy and did not know what the source of her anxiety was. She glanced at her partner and subtly reached across the armrest and took his hand. Mulder glanced down feeling her warm hand hold his. He glanced at her and saw her staring dreamily outside the window overlooking the Pamlico Sound.

“We're going to be okay, Mulder.”

. . . .

 

The motel had a king sized bed was welcoming and the room in the motel itself was a few steps up from what they were used to staying in when out in the field but Scully could not dismiss the beauty of this room simply because they were yards away from the shore and she could not wait to watch the sunrise with him. She was already in bed when Mulder came out of the bathroom wearing just a pair of sleeping pants. She licked her lips already sensing that tonight would go no further than them cuddling in bed if that. When was the last time they had sex? Perhaps two weeks? She did not know but she did know that both of them were itching. A few short weeks of intercourse was like taking a sip of water after being parched for years. She was getting the same thirst after only a week. She sat up on the right side of the bed, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, as she flipped through a tourist magazine they had picked up after dinner.

“I tried looking for ghost tours. There aren’t many,” she replied casually. “Maybe we can pester the landmarks and National Parks Service by flashing our badges.”

“Ah,” he reminded her, “but we are right next to th Graveyard of the Atlantic.” He crawled into bed next to her. “If not, I know how you love the ocean. We could just, I don’t know, lay out there and do nothing. Be normal. The weather this week is supposed to be nice.”

Small things like this always surprised her and that is one of the reasons why she fell in love with him in this life and the last. She closed the magazine and whispered, “Do you know what date is coming up?”

“March 18th,” he answered, surprising her. “I know what it means.”

“I thought you wouldn’t take it seriously.”

“Why would I do that, Scully?”

She shrugged her shoulders. Closing the magazine, she set it on the nightstand along with her glasses. “Just with everything that had happened in the past month or so, I thought maybe you would have forgotten, Mulder,” she whispered. “With what happened in February. The IVF failure, El Rico...we’ve been fighting.”

“No. We haven’t.” Silence. He leaned next to her and pushed away a loose lock of red hair. “Have we, Scully?”

“Silence is deafening,” she whispered. She looked at him. “We haven’t...we haven’t talked like we used to. Not since before the IVF. Are you upset with me? Or was it El Rico? I can't stand feeling abandoned, Mulder. Talk to me, please.”

Mulder sighed and lowered the volume on the television. “I...you were right, Scully. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He leaned back into the pillows. “After Norfolk, she’s been trying twice as hard to get my attention. I lost focus. Of you, of us...after the failure, Scully…” His voice faded as he shook his head. “Those memories are still there, just like yours. I can recall them like any other. I remember you telling me about our...can I even call her our child? It was over a hundred years ago.”

“It was still our child. Or unborn child whether it was then or now,” she murmured. “I have been feeling it more acutely as well. Emily was hard, realizing what we had then and remembering it being ripped all away, and now this,” she murmured. “I hurt as well, Mulder. We both hurt. How do you think I feel knowing my womb is a barren wasteland unable to give you a child? You could have a family with anyone you want to. I don’t know why you waste your time with me.”

Scully had tears in her eyes and this was the first time in weeks they had expressed their feelings, truly expressed them, since that night they mourned the IVF failure. He was at a loss at what to do and old Mulder would have done nothing, but things were different now between them. Two lifetimes of memories and knowing who his true other half was made him do otherwise. “Scully,” he whispered tenderly, “look at me.”

She shook her head. “Forget it, Mulder. It’s not important.”

“It is,” he encouraged. “Scully, look at me.”

She shook her head again. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“No,” he pushed. “I fucked up. I get it. Just don’t shut me out. I don’t want you to keep me out like you used to.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Mulder,” she whispered. “I just let myself hope too much.”

“You should be allowed to hope,” he continued. “You should be allowed to be happy. Scully, if given a third chance to be with you, no matter what, I would still take it. I don’t want to have a family with anyone else but you. Look at me, please.” She shook her head and Mulder cupped her cheek. “Look at me.” Her blue eyes darted to his warm hazel eyes and he smiled. “No matter what, Scully. You are the only one for me, I promise.”

She let out a breath she had been holding without knowing. What was wrong with her? When did simple words soothe a painful ache in her chest like a healing balm, although temporary. “I’ve been wanting to hear that for weeks,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry, Scully. Feel free to let me know next time, okay?”

She nodded and kissed his cheek chastely. Mulder gave a weak smile. “Let’s hit the sack, huh? We have two whole weeks of nothing. Best get an early start.”

“I want to watch the sunrise,” she whispered into his chest.

Scully was already sliding to Mulder’s side instinctively. He wrapped his arms around her and hooked his leg over her thigh. “Of course. Coffee and we can use those rocking chairs out front. Then what do you want to do?”

“Have breakfast with you,” she yawned.

“Then what?”

“I don’t care. We can decide then.” Scully wrinkled her nose at the television as The Drew Carey Show came on. “Turn the channel.” Mulder flipped the channels until he came across a cooking show on PBS. “This is good.”

“Cooking? Really?”

“It’s fine.” She kissed his breastplate and pressed her ear to listen to his heart. Mulder nodded and turned out the lamp on the table. Scully closed her eyes, feeling his left hand gently rub up and down her back. She closed her eyes and felt some the hurt and resentment that had lingered ebb away. She was relaxing. “I missed this.”

“I never went anywhere.”

“We need to talk about our feelings more,” she murmured. “Both of us.”

He nodded, kissing her hair in affirmation. “Will do.”

“Mulder?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m glad we decided to take a vacation.”

“Me too, Scully, me too.”

. . . .

 

Mulder awoke with a soft grunt as he felt feather soft kisses against his neck and her small hand tracing suggestively against his lower abdomen. He was momentarily disoriented as he opened his eyes and saw that is was still dark outside. Scully had already wormed herself onto his lap, straddling him, and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

Mulder groggily opened his eyes, blinking in the dim light coming from their en-suite bathroom. He smelled coffee. She kept rubbing his biceps up and down as if trying to keep him warm. As he opened his eyes and he met her keen blue eyes as she smiled. Memories blended together as they both smiled. “Morning, Scully.” He gave her a gentle kiss. “Did you sleep okay?”

She nodded and continued to hold him. “I’m glad we talked last night, Mulder.”

“You are?”

She nodded and arched an eyebrow quizzically. “Why are you surprised?”

“I just thought, after all that, you’d be more upset? Angry even with me. I don't know. We aren't the best about talking about our feelings.”

She pursed her lips in thought as she stroked his chest. “I’m still hurting inside, Mulder, from everything that’s happened to us but you are here now. Maybe I was being jealous.”

“Which you had a right to be.”

“Smart man,” she teased, resting her forehead against his. “But when it’s all said in done. We’re here together, after everything. I say that counts for something, doesn’t it?”

He closed his eyes and nodded slightly. She was too good to him, too good. Sometimes, Mulder questioned why, after such a long life of failure and loneliness, she still stuck around him and put up with him. “You’re a good man, Mulder. I would not stay around with you this unless you weren’t.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Mulder,” she sighed, kissing his forehead, “stop being a martyr. How many times do I need to tell you? Stop. Come watch the sunrise with me, Mulder.”

“Sunrise?”

“I made coffee. We can canoodle.”

“Canoodle? Is that scientific term for coupling, Dr. Scully?”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

She could always rescue him from the darkness, even at his worst. “What would I do without you?”

“I don’t even want to entertain the thought, Mulder.” She took a deep breath to steady them. “I want to move past everything we’ve suffered. Do you remember what you said back in December? What we decided?”

“The future is unlimited.”

“Right.”

She pulled him out of bed and he shivered slightly and pulled on a sweatshirt as Scully wore her on aUniversity of Maryland. He smiled and probably thanked his stars for the nth time that he and Scully had evolved over the past few months. She caught him staring at her and she flashed a coy smile. “What, Mulder?”

“Nothing, Scully. I just… I just never get tired of this.” She poured them two small cups of coffee and handed him one cup. Together, the went outside to the porch of the motel where two plastic rocking chairs sat, just like every other motel room, and they sat next to each other. Mulder chuckled softly and she arched an eyebrow questioningly. “I just...I never imagined that...this I mean. Never mind, Scully.”

“No,” she soothed, rubbing his forearm. “Tell me, Mulder.”

“There had been a few times since this…” He gestured between them. “I just…”

“What, Mulder?”

“I m just glad you’re here.”

. . . .

 

Buckley's chest hurt and with the flurry of noise in his head, it made it hard to concentrate. Three lifetimes was enough, he decided, to have all those voices in his head. Somewhere, on his transportation to some maximum federal security prison in Kentucky, he found himself outside of the prison bus, drenched in his orange jumpsuit. He stumbled on the road for a while, his chest heaving with fire and his head disorientated. He had been on a bus in the middle of North Carolina when two black SUVs had come out of the air and stopped the bus. Everyone else was shot but him. Buckley’s memories had been more troubling lately and after the setback in Norfolk, become more unbalanced. The prison doctors tried to dope him up with meds with he awaited to stand trial. But along with the men that emerged from the black SUVs was an older man smoking a cigarette. Buckley could not remember what he said but the next thing he knew he was free and had note crumpled in his hand, reeking of cigarette smoke.

Finish what you started.

 

. . . .

 

After they watched the sunrise, Mulder and Scully packed up their few things that they had brought out from the car and headed up northwards towards Nags Head and Kitty Hawk from Buxton. March was still unseasonably mild and it influenced Scully’s thoughts right before they were ready to climb into the driver’s seat. “Mulder,” she called. “If I can find a place, what would you say to a couple’s surf lessons?”

“Surf lesson?”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Surf, Scully?” Scully let herself drop into the passenger seat before slamming the door. Mulder snorted in amusement as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Surfing. Where would you ever get such an idea?”

“Don’t forget who grew up in San Diego during my teenage years. I did my fair share of hanging ten back in the day. It’ll be fun, Mulder. Come on.”

“I’ll give it some thought. So, we won’t be staying in some dingy motel room.”

“I like last night's room,” she countered, “wasn’t that bad, Mulder.”

“The view paid for itself.”

“Tell me what you planned.”

“You know, after Arcadia, I really dig this domestic thing with you,” he smiled, taking her hand.

Scully chuckled and looked out the window bashfully. “Arcadia. Mulder. We aren’t the Petries anymore. We’re Mulder and Scully. What is our domestic thing?”

“Ah, a lifetime…”

“Three years,” he murmured softly. “And so much time lost.”

“But we are here now, aren’t we, Mulder? A little thing like death couldn’t stop us.”

“I suppose.” He kissed her knuckles. “We have a small two bedrooms one bath beachfront cottage for the next two weeks. Just you, me, sex, and the beach.”

“A beach house.”

“A beach cottage, “ he corrected with a sly smile. “It sounds more romantic.”

“Fox Mulder is romantic. Who knew such a thing existed.”

“Give me some credit, Scully. How many times have I been wrong?”

Scully continued to smile and she rolled her eyes. “I’m glad we did this, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

. . . .

Mulder smiled as he watched Scully’s face light up in a warm smile as the sounds of crashing waves carried from beyond the sand dunes. She took in the small beach house with its quaint blue paint on its walls and the bright yellow shutters and doors. She glanced at her partner with a sly smile. “It looks like a hobbit hole, Mulder,” she said, “well a hobbit hole on the coast.”

“Scully,” he smiled, “I didn’t know you were into Tolkien.”

“I’m not per say but I did read The Hobbit and The Silmarillion.”

“But not The Lord of the Rings?”

“That was Bill’s thing,” she shrugged. “Or it tried to be. Mom and Dad bought him the entire collection, including all three books, The Hobbit, and The Silmarillion. He read a hundred pages of one, I can’t remember which one, but he gave up. We went to San Francisco or some family vacation. I was eight, still young enough to bother my older siblings but too old to hang out with my baby brother. That left me alone with books for the summer.”

“So you just read all summer?”

“And learned to surf,” she shrugged. “Apparently my small height made me a natural and made me the envy of my siblings.”

“I still can’t picture it.”

“I didn’t get the chance again until my senior year of high school. It was just like riding the bike and still made me the envy of the girls that summer, even though I was as red as a lobster.”

“Have you done it since?”

“No,” she grinned. “Wouldn’t that make our little vacation fun?”

“Are we going to do the whole tourist thing? We can’t lay out on the beach for two whole weeks.”

“Why not?”

“You said it yourself, you’ll become a boiled lobster, and as much as I love lobster,” he said, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis, “I don’t want you to suffer sunburn. So if I indulge in your couples’ surf lesson, you have to pretend to be a tourist with me.”

“Fine,” she conceded. She paused their unloading of the car. “Why don’t we take a moment and check out the house?”

“Is that code for something, Scully?”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

She took the rental keys from his outstretched hand. She pulled teasingly at his arm as he playfully dragged his feet. They climbed the wooden steps, admiring the quaint view. Mulder pursed his lips in thought. “I can hear the waves. I can’t wait to see the view.”

Scully turned the keys and heard the deadbolt unlock. The door swung open and they took in the first floor of the rental. Like many of the rental homes on the barrier island, some sort of variant of nautical or sea theme weaved its way through the decor and this rental was no exception. Two bedrooms and a shared bath made up the first floor and Mulder nudged Scully along. “Unless you want to sleep in separate rooms, move along, Starbuck.”

“Unless you want playhouse again.”

“Stop it. Let’s go upstairs and see the main floor. I read that the master bedroom, kitchen, living room, and the deck is all on the top floor and it overlooks the ocean,” Mulder informed her like a brochure.

She chuckled and they ventured up the flight of stairs and into the wide open white space where all the amenities home mingled together like a loft. She was immediately drawn to the sliding glass door and the breathtaking view on the Atlantic with an empty beach and breaking waves. She could see a few surfers in the water and she jumped slightly when Mulder came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her hair. She relaxed back into his embrace and sighed. “This is lovely.”

He kissed her neck and whispered. “I know it’s no river…”

“Mulder, what did I tell you?” He quieted. “We don’t let our past define our future. I love it.” She turned her head slightly giving him a sweet kiss. “And I’m glad I’m here with you and away from Washington.”

“Me too,” he agreed softly.

. . . .

Close to three hundred miles away in a gray, drab building known as the Hoover Building, Assistant Director Skinner rolled his neck and heard something pop. When his agents came with the surprise request of two weeks off of vacation time, he thought there was some sort of joke being played, but surprisingly, they were serious. Skinner wisely kept his mouth shut at the well-timed vacation requests noticing how much closer they had grown since the events of last December. He knew about the water cooler talk that floated around the Hoover building about those two. He had no doubts about the validity of those rumors but the way he figured it, it was just rumored and he let them have their time off. Hell, at the very least, he would not suffer from one his chronic headaches those two were known to cause. Distracted, his desk phone began to ring.

“Skinner,” he greeted gruffly.

“Assistant Director Skinner? This is Special Agent Darren Benson from the Norfolk Branch.”

Skinner dropped his pen and leaned back into the chair. “ASAC Benson. We met briefly in December.”

“SAC Benson now. I’m in charge of the Norfolk field office.”

“Congratulations on the promotion but I have a feeling that there is more than just this tidbit of news.”

“Yes, sir. I tried to reach Agents Mulder and Scully earlier this morning but I was unable to get them.”

“They are on a leave of absence for the next two weeks which is probably why you got forwarded to me,” Skinner grunted. “And likely their phones off.”

Benson sighed on the other end of the line. “Have you been watching the news, sir?”

“No. Should I?”

“It’s all over the local news down here and I’m surprised it hasn’t made national headlines yet. I am already coordinating with the Eastern North Carolina field office.”

“Spit it out, man.”

“At 11:25 last night, the guards on the prison transport were found gunned down, all of the execution style. Francis Buckley was not found with no sign of his location or possible escape.”

“What?”

“Yes, sir and my guess is, after what happened after he was recaptured, that he will likely go after your agents again.”

Skinner sighed, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling another headache coming back on. “I’ll try to reach them.”

“You better hurry, sir. I’ll keep you in the loop with what’s going on done here.”

“Heard on that, Benson.”

Skinner slammed the phone down and sighed. Jesus, he thought, here we go again.

. . . .

Finish what you started. That’s what the smoker had said. It’s harder to keep everything straight these days but the cigarette smoking man, he’s got the right idea. Damn, right I’m gonna finish what I started.

. . . .

As the day progressed, the partners carried their luggage up to the first-floor master bedroom suite, made up the bed with cheap king size bed sheets that bought at the Wal-Mart as soon as they crossed over the Wright Memorial Bridge. Scully’s dazzling smile and laughter kept distracting Mulder as she took advantage of it and pinned and straddled him on the bed suggestively, which he, of course, responded to, and they lost a couple of hours testing the bed. They tried to clean up but they also tested the shower in the process. As they dried off, Mulder mumbled something about how the rental was already earning its money. By early evening with the agents showered and changed and their luggage put away, Scully stood in the bare kitchen admiring the empty cabinets and fridge. Mulder strolled through the living room with one of those entertainment guides.

“Mulder,” she called gently. “We should pick up some groceries after we go out to dinner.”

“That’s a good idea. Hey, what are you feeling for food tonight? Fancy or no?”

“Just find us a place to eat, Mulder. It’s not that hard.”

“There’s a place down the road near a grocery store called Hurricane Larry. All you can eat steamed shrimp is on special tonight along with pitchers of beer. Or there’s this other place, a bit fancier, called The Black Pearl.”

“We can save the fancy place from a few days from now, let’s just hit up this Hurricane Larry and do grocery shopping afterward,” she told him. “I really want to take advantage of the fresh seafood while we are here, Mulder.”

“I don’t blame you. I looked at the forecast yesterday before we came down. The weather is supposed to be nice all this week.”

“That’s good to know,” she acknowledged, shutting the cabinet doors. “You ready to go?”

He nodded and set the entertainment guide down on the coffee table as she collected her purse from the kitchen table, purposely ignoring the cell phone and the nagging feeling that she should check it. She nodded as Mulder placed a warm, guiding hand on the small of her back as they jogged down the steps and out to their awaiting car. Outside, the spring air carried the heavy humidity of summer but somehow was whisked away by the Atlantic sea breeze. She watched Mulder fumble with the car keys in a strange twilight moment where her past memories and emotions collided with her current ones and she felt a love for the awkward knight in shining armor who just dropped his keys strongly. Mulder picked up the car keys triumphantly and noticed the glazed, distant look in Scully’s eyes. “Still with me?”

“Yeah.” She blinked a couple of times, refocusing her gaze and giving him a warm smile. “Yeah. I'm still here.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“As if you don’t as well. Come on, my stomach is growling, Mulder.”

They climbed into the car and Mulder pulled out onto the main drag of highway as Scully turned the radio up slightly as the Red Hot Chili Peppers “Otherside” came on over the car radio. Without thinking, he took her hand and held it over the headrest. “It should be right up on mile marker 4,” she told him.

“You know I have an impeccable sense of direction,” he told her proudly.

She hummed in suspicion before looking back out to the passing lights and other cars as he continued to drive. Mulder looked over at his partner and then focused back onto the road. Maybe this trip would be good for them if earlier that was any indication of the rest of their vacation, it would be very pleasant indeed. “Have you checked our cells yet?”

“Why would I? I do not want to deal with anyone, not work, not family,” she shrugged.

“Oh, how did Bill take the news over your birthday?”

“Be glad we were undercover,” she laughed, “and he didn’t know that we were in San Diego at the time. I feel like it would have been another missing family.”

“You would protect me though, right? Me and my manly honor?”

“Isn’t it suppose to be the other way around?”

Mulder slowed and turned onto a side road near the ocean side as he looked at her incredulously. “No, if it weren’t for you, well, let’s say I should have died long ago.”

“Don’t talk like that, Mulder. Remembering once is enough.”

“And you,” he coughed. “Don’t go doing it on me anytime soon.” He thought of Ritter and that bullet, how she should have died a second time but some miracle, just like this life, she had a second chance. “I would have killed the weasel, for the record.”

“Noted, Mulder.” She perked up into the passenger seat and pointed to a small building crowded with bikes and other cars. “That’s it.”

“Hm. It looks like somewhere we would go to on one of our cases,” he chuckled. As he pulled into the parking lot, he slowed, hearing the beginnings of music. “And it sounds like they have a band here tonight.”

As they got out of the car, she nodded to a small catwalk that carried out over into the parking lot into a sort of crows nest. “And an outdoor bar.”

“What do you think, Scully? Inside or outside?”

“Let’s eat outside tonight,” he proposed. “I bet the view is to die for.”

As they finished parking the car, Scully took his hand as they climbed the steps into the main building and she laughed as they entered the main dining area and saw it cast a psychedelic glow with the main dining room cast with blues, purples, and yellows in a hurricane of cosmic galaxies and other-worldly things. She pressed against him and whispered. “Must be love.”

“Cosmic galaxies get your juices going, Scully?”

“You know better than to ask me that.”

A hostess appeared giving them a tired smile. “Good evening,” she greeted. “Two for tonight?”

“We were actually wondering if we could eat upstairs on the deck,” Scully replied.

“Of course. Would you like a table or go to the bar?”

“Table,” Mulder answered.

“My pleasure,” the host answered grabbing two menus. She led them back outside up a quick flight of steps to the upper level of the restaurant where there was a small bar and handful of tables spread out. She gestured to a table that sat next to the end with a perfect view over the dunes and of the darkened beaches and waves. “Will this do?”

“Perfect,” she answered pulling out a chair. “Thank you.”

“I could have gotten that for you,” he told her feigning mock hurt. “But I know better.”

“Of course you do, Mulder.”

Before Mulder could sit down, a waiter vaporized out of thin air and was smiling cheekily. Scully caught her partner’s smirk as he sat down in the chair next to her. “Good evening, folks. Can I get you started on something?”

She was already glancing at the menu, ordering for Mulder without even consulting him. She ordered them a pitcher of beer and an appetizer of fried oysters and mahi mahi. He arched an eyebrow and whispered, “Fried, Scully? Be still my heart.”

“Must be love, Mulder.”

She reached to take his hand and give it a late squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. Dinner was a quiet affair as they talked about their coming vacation, past cases, and they also found themselves reconnecting after the past tense month. Mulder sipped his beer thoughtfully and whispered, “We should celebrate your birthday too, Scully.”

“We did.”

“Pretending to be married and chasing garbage monsters don’t count, Scully.”

“We were married.”

“We haven’t adequately addressed the present, have we?”

“Or the future.”

“No.” Silence engulfed them and she shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We haven’t really talked about the last…”

“I know,” she replied, cutting him off.

“We need to, Scully.”

“We need to do a lot of things, Mulder.”

He sighed and looked at the Atlantic. “It’s hard, Scully. I remember what you said when we came back down to Yorktown. You said you were yourself all at once, that memories from 1865 and our marriage are the same as the ones we had as I had to watch the cancer ravage your body. We were happy, Scully and I am happy now too but we aren’t married, are we?”

“Mulder, how would that change anything between us?”

“We just got the x-files back less than a month ago. I know, well I hope you know, that whatever was between me and Diana is done.”

“I haven’t thought about that since December,” she spoke softly, picking at the leftovers of their dinner. “And I thought we were past that, Mulder.”

“I just...I sense some doubt lingering, probably mine, but I just want to make sure.”

She sighed, taking his hand. “You, Fox Mulder, are the most insecure man I know, and you shouldn’t. I have witnessed it first hand.” He chuckled. “But there should be no doubt, Mulder.”

“I just thought, with the past month and all,” he mumbled as his cheeks grew a shade darker. “Between the cases and the IVF…”

“We can,” she started, drawing a deep breath to steady her voice, “we can always try again, Mulder.”

“But do you want to?”

“I...I don’t know yet,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

“Mulder, don’t make me box your ears,” she threatened to try to change the tone. “We’re on vacation for two weeks. Maybe we can chase a ghost ship or something.”

He gave her a weak smile, pulling her knuckles to his lips. “What would I do without you?”

“Mulder, shut up and drink your beer. I think they have a band about to start.”

. . . .

As Mulder’s wristwatch neared 10:30, Scully left a few bills on the table for a tip, gathered up her purse, slipped her arm through Mulder’s, and they descended the deck back to their car. The beer warmed Scully’s blood and the ocean air invigorated her. She wasn’t drunk but could feel the beginnings to a good buzz coming along. She mused as they separated and climbed into the car. They came to the Outer Banks without any particular plans or goals. Since the first failure of the IVF, things were tense. Playing as husband and wife should have come easily to them in Arcadia, but the tension worsened, forcing Mulder to sleep on the couch for the first couple of nights. She shivered at the thought.

“AC too cold, Scully?”

“No,” she responded. “Everything’s perfect.”

Was it though?

“You’re quiet.”

“I’m just tired, Mulder.”

She gave him an easy smile as he made the short drive back to their rented beach house. Scully started up the steps in front of Mulder, unlocking the door as he came behind her, wrapped a strong arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “You ready for bed?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replied holding him momentarily. “I picked up some of those tourist magazines. What do you say we watch the sunrise, have some coffee, and figure out what to do this trip?”

“I would like that.”

She tugged at his hand as they entered the home. He locked the door soundly and followed her upstairs as she flipped the living room lights on. She dragged her feet into the bedroom and began to get ready for bed. He titled his head in thought gauging his luck. Not tonight, he decided, tonight was just reaffirming what they had. He walked into the master bedroom, stripping his shirt in the process and watched as the crawled under the blankets.

“Wanna watch anything in particular?” he asked. “I can see if a game is on or something for you. Or PBS?”

“Local news is fine.”

“Okay.”

Mulder dressed down to boxers and climbed in on the left side of the bed and flipped on the television. “How long with the sleep timer?”

“90 minutes,” she yawned.

Mulder set the sleep timer and turned off the lights. Scully immediately reached for him and settled comfortably next to him as her arm and leg coiled around him. She sighed contently as her head rested against his chest.

“I'm glad, we're here, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

Her eyes began to grow heavy as she listened between Mulder's heartbeat and the 11 o'clock news. His fingers absently played with Scully's red locks as he watched the weather forecast.

“Sunny skies all week,” he said.

“Mmm...'at's nice.”

He smiled and watched the newscast pan away from the meteorologists to the lead broadcast journalist. “In other news, a prisoner escape happened late last night in Pastequtank County. The prisoner was being transported to a max federal security prison. The prisoner, Francis Buckley, was caught this past December in Norfolk after taking two FBI agents hostage. He is awaiting trial for kidnapping charges and allegedly killing seven people. The FBI, the U.S. Marshalls, and local police are involved in a two-state manhunt. If you see anything suspicious, call this number or 1-800-LOCK-U-UP. In other news, the Norfolk city...”

Scully had heard the new anchor and Mulder had become tense. “Did he...”

Mulder had already torn himself away from Scully and was digging through their still packed bag. He found his phone and pushed it to his ear. Scully watched an array of emotions play across his face: fear, anger, determination. “Skinner left us messages and SAC Benson too. Buckley's escaped, Scully.”

“What?”

“They didn't say any details. I'm calling Skinner.”

“Mulder!”

He stormed into the living room and saw him picking up the cordless phone and dialing a number. She followed as he put the call on speaker. “Where the hell have you been, Mulder? I have been trying to reach you for hours.” Skinner was on the warpath.

“I'm on vacation, Skinner.”

“Have you been in contact with Scully?”

“I'm here, sir.”

Mulder glanced up and held out his hand to Scully. She took it as he pulled her close. “Agent Scully, I thought you said you were on vacation.”

“I am,” she murmured.

“Fuck it. I don't care why you both are on vacation together. You saw the news I take it?”

“Yes, sir,” Mulder answered.

“What progress has been made?” Scully piped up.

“Nothing. All the guards were found dead, execution style. There was a pack of Morley's found at the scene.”

Mulder and Scully shared a long gaze. “Anything else,” Scully asked.

“Not yet. The evidence is still being analyzed and Benson is running on point, I'll let you know when I hear something.”

“We should do something, sir.” Scully looked at Mulder for affirmation.

“It's probably best you don't do anything,” Skinner sighed, “or get anywhere near this. I noticed the area code. 252.”

“We're in the Outer Banks,” Mulder answered. “Kill Devil Hills.”

“Good. Stay there. Don't get involved. I'll call you if there are any changes.”

Their boss hung up without another word. Scully sat on the couch and rested her face in her hands. Mulder sighed, feeling another moment where he did not know if it was his current or past memories causing his deja vu. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug as she kept her eyes shut tight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm for making this possible from posting the prompt to being a soundboard during the writing of both fics. And thanks to @frangipanidownunder fic workshops to help flesh out the plot. I wrote another thing. Sorry for the typos. I suck at editing my own writing. No beta. 
> 
> P.S. I highly recommend you read False Flags Redux to make sense of the flashback.

The cool predawn air chilled Scully as she sat on the deck with a cup of coffee in her hand and a blanket wrapped around her. She had barely slept that night and had abandoned the bed in favor of indulging her insomnia. She heard the glass door sliding and interrupting her thoughts. The wooden bench creaked as Mulder eased his weight slowly down next to her precariously balancing his own coffee cup as he gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Morning,” she whispered, rubbing his thigh. “How did you sleep?”

“What’s sleep,” he replied. He snorted into his coffee. “I could say the same for you.”

“That bad huh?”

“I noticed you did not sleep much either, Scully.”

She shook her head. True, she had not slept but there had been other things on her mind. Sleepily, she rested her head against Mulder’s shoulder and yawned. Both let the quietness engulf them and listened to the distant waves and the cackling seagulls. Reds began to paint the sky with purples and oranges and reflect off the blue waters. Mulder kissed her head tenderly and lingered. Since the latest step in the evolution in their relationship, he came to treasure moments like these. Simple quiet moments where personal space had no meaning between them and it was just them. Unspoken communication always worked so well for them, like right now. He could feel the love flowing between them, but also the uncertainty of the future.

As the red sun climbed higher, Mulder felt her let out a sigh. “What’s the plan, Mulder?”

He knew there was more than one answer but decided to say the safest response. “We were ordered to stay away,” he began, “but it is also not in either of us to just stand by and do nothing.”

“Since when don’t we get involved?” she scoffed.

“There’s a first for everything.” He remembered her death in one life and could not take it in this one.

“They have three agencies across two states on this, Mulder. They don’t need us”

“But Skinner also said they found a pack of Morely’s.”

“Doesn’t mean anything, Scully. You said it yourself we’re on vacation. We deserve it. But we still need to do something.”

“Mulder,” she warned. He saw Agent Scully emerge effortlessly. “Just because Diana played a hand in Buckley’s escape and the killings don’t mean that cancer bastard did this. We came here because we need time. Time to reconnect. Time to heal. Time to be us...whatever we are. Let them handle it. We have our guns and badges. Buckley does not know where we are. We are probably safer here than in Washington.” Mulder’s brain and heart raged between the desire to protect Scully but also see Buckley brought to justice. “Mulder, let someone else handle it for once.”

He nodded. “Okay, okay.”

She tucked her head into his neck and whispered, “Thanks.”

“Do you want to take it easy today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“We’ll stay here a little longer, okay?”

“Okay.”

As the sun rose higher over the horizon, the entire living room and open kitchen lit up with the promise of a new day. Mulder glanced at the couch and did not see Scully. She was probably laying down and sleeping. The television was turned on low as Home and Garden played in the background as it seemed like another couple was talking about house flipping or trading spaces. Quietly, he dug through the cabinets and found a skillet and located some of the eggs they had purchased the day before and started to make breakfast.

Something easy, he decided.

The beer had not settled well with him and the nightmares and restless tossing only added to the fact. As the eggs simmered in the frying pan, he tossed in a few pieces of toast and searched the fridge for something to drink. As he pulled out the orange juice and two glasses, he heard Scully calling his name.

“Mulder.”

He paused midaction and walked quietly to the couch. Scully moved upright slightly as Mulder eased himself down on the main couch. Scully weakly sat up so he could sit next to here before she rested her head on his lap cushioned by a sofa cushion. Mulder bent downwards and kiss her cheek. “You okay?”

Dealing with past and present was something they both dealt and struggled with. “Yeah,” she whispered. She took his hand and held it against her chest. She closed her eyes, relishing Mulder’s deft finger caress her temple. “I think I am.”

“Did you have another nightmare.”

“We both have nightmares.” She rolled onto her back with her eyes closed, her left arm resting lightly against her forehead. He lowered the volume on the television. “I can’t seem to figure out anything, Mulder.” She took his hand. “I keep having nightmares.”

“What about?”

She didn’t know how but she knew. “You know.”

“We have a future,” he repeated like a mantra. “We always have a future.”

Scully, in a rare moment of vulnerability, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and whispered, “Mulder, we lost so much in one life that we can remember, I don’t want to lose everything in this life. Not again.”

Everything.

“What is everything, Scully?”

Mulder watched her close her eyes and hold his hand close to her heart. “Whatever this life is. Maybe that can be one thing we can discover, Mulder. What the goal is in this life.”

“I thought I made part of one of my intentions clear with the IVF. I’m all in, Scully. If we decide to try again and we do succeed, I am all in. I do want a family. With you.”

She opened her eyes and saw his upside down give her a weak smile. “I know, Mulder. I want that too but we still have our work. After everything that has happened these past few months, what about that? I know you won’t simply step back.”

“I would for you.”

“Would you, Mulder?” He remained silent. She reached to bring his head in a soft kiss. “Let’s just figure out the future right now. We have each other. This relationship isn’t going anywhere, okay? Let’s just try to enjoy this vacation, even with the threat that we may face.”

“Do you think Buckley knows where we aren’t in Washington?”

“No. But we have our weapons and we have anonymity here. We haven’t gone around waving our badges. You talked to Skinner this morning?”

“I will at noon. I thought we could do what you advised. Just take it easy today. I made breakfast for you.”

“Did you set anything on fire,” she teased. She got up from the couch and stretched like a cat. “Hmmm. It doesn’t smell like you burnt...wait, toast?”

“Shit!” Mulder leaped up to catch from the toast from catching on fire over Scully’s laughter.

. . . .

Buckley sat on the side of the road dressed in an orange jumpsuit as the rain poured, blinking up into the empty night sky as the Cigarette Smoking Man took a long drag from his cigarette. Fowley had failed to capitalize on this man...this Francis Buckley. The criminal had a long track record of violent murders meaning the man was dedicated once he put his mind to something. Although he did not feel swayed by the particularly violent nature of his methods because his actions were like an artist painting. And his fascination with Agent Scully and his hatred of Mulder. Buckley was the perfect tool to get everything to get his work done.

The Smoking Man took a long drag from his Morley and looked to the armed soldier to left of him. “What should we do with him, sir?”

“Get him to D.C.”

“They ain’t in D.C.”

The Smoking Man’s dead gaze turned to Buckley who acknowledged him with a serene smile. “What do you mean?”

“I remember you, Carl. Shit. Everyone has the same face but me. And the same tastes too apparently. How fucked up is that?” He laughed hollowly. “Three fucking lifetimes, Carl.” He tapped his head and closed his eyes. “Three fucking lifetimes and I can’t do shit. They just sort of rattle around in my head like incessant little voices. Everyone says I’m crazy. I’m perfectly sane. Everyone says I’m a serial killer.” He shrugged. “I just enjoy it.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I fucking hired you, Carl. Jesus. Why on Earth would your mother name you, Carl?”

The other man stared at Buckley as if expecting something more than a rambling madman. “I am making an offer, Mr. Buckley,” the smoker drawled.

The other man waved his hand mockingly, encouraging the Smoker to hurry along. “And you work with that woman or does she work for you? The pretty little brunette that didn’t want me to harm the Lieutenant? How’s she doing?”

The Cigarette Smoking Man drew his wretched spine taller, cracking in the process. “Well, if they ain’t in D.C. Where are they?”

Buckley shrugged. “I’ll find them eventually. I always do.”

“I’m sure.”

“I know that I have the feds on my tail and I have the sneaking suspicion that will make thing infinitely harder.”

“Do you want to be free or not?”

“To do as I want, on my own terms. Yes.”

“Well, as long as the end result is the same. Scully is to be spared. Mulder…” The Smoking Man stopped. “Do as you wish.”

. . . .

Scully lounged beneath the large beach umbrella on the large blanket Mulder had brought from the beach rental. She stared at the reddened bullet wound against her abdomen which Mulder had lavished earlier as she began to grow self-conscious about wearing a two piece and eased her fears. But she sat in mid-March, dressed like it was July. She leaned back and put on her sunglasses and watched the waves picking up and pounding the shore. She could remember reading about the tides and somewhere that surfers considered the best time to catch waves was starting in fall, at the peak of hurricane season, continuing through the winter, easing into the spring, and settling down during the summer. Maybe their relationship was like the cycle of the Atlantic, Scully mused, watching the three foot swell pound the sandbars.

“Scully!”

Mulder’s booming voice echoed on the nearly deserted beach. With a smile, she looked over her shoulder and saw him carrying a tote wearing a pair of Ray Bans, red swim trunks, and loose Knick’s t-shirt. She licked her lips at the thought about the coming afternoon. He set the tote down and collapsed next to her on the beach blanket.

“Sorry,” he breathed.

“What took you so long?”

“You wanted lunch, didn’t you, Scully?” He licked his lips thoughtfully. “I’m digging the bikini by the way.”

“You don’t think it is too much?” She was self-conscious of the bullet scar across her abdomen and while it had fully healed, the redness and scarred tissue was still prominent. “I mean, since what had happened.”

“Why would I think it is too much?” He shed his t-shirt and motioned to his own bullet scar on his shoulder. “We finally have a matching pair.”

“Matching pair,” she murmured with a wistful smile. Mulder gently took her hand and pulled it away, revealing the ghastly scar. “You know how I feel about it, Mulder.”

“I do,” he answered. A memory came forth unbidden from the recesses of Mulder’s memory as his rough fingers continued to caress her the gunshot scar. “But you shouldn’t.”

. . . . .

January 6, 1865

Yorktown, Virginia

Mulder watched dreamily from their bed as she sat in front of the fire and sighed angrily and threw away her most recent dress that she had been wearing that day. He watched with amusement as she changed out of the rest of the day's clothes. His heart swelled with pride as she shifted in the naked firelight and the outline of her pregnant belly and that of their unborn child. “Mulder,” she scoffed. “What on Earth are you looking at?”

“You,” he answered softly. “Just you?”

“Are you remarking on how fat I have become?”

“Just how beautiful you look.” He grinned. “Is this the first time you’ve been pregnant, Scully?”

“Yes.” She looked up and saw Mulder’s dark hazel eyes staring hungrily at her. “At the beginning of my marriage with Franklin, I used these marvelous things like a female wash or female tonic immediately afterward. Two years afterward, I did not have any of my special washes and I couldn’t interrupt it. But nothing happened. He was impotent, lucky for me.”

“How did you know,” he asked softly.

Her cheeks became flushed with embarrassment as she momentarily forgot how open he and their relationship was. For that, she was both grateful and annoyed about their openness. Mulder encouraged her to be whoever she was and for the first time, despite the constraints of the war, she was free to be herself. “A woman knows things, Mulder.”

“You know too much.”

“You did not complain last night.”

She chose to ignore his cheeky comment and turned to the fire. The warmth tingled through her cool skin and she felt even warmer as her husband came up behind her. She could feel his hot fevered skin through her pack and the path of his arm encase her naked form. She chuckled softly and brought him around her like a cloak. “I felt the baby today.”

“You felt…”

She could hear Mulder murmur and stumble over his words in excitement. “You felt her?”

“Or him.”

“We’re having a daughter,” he whispered confidently in her ear. “Is she moving now?”

“He’s moving a bit.” She stressed the sex of the child. “But she could be just as flippant as her father.”

“Well, is our child…”

As if on cue, Scully gasped slightly as it turned into a slight chuckle as she fitted Mulder’s larger hands protectively around her enlarged belly. After a long moment, he a slight pressure against his hand and then another. “Scully!”

“She must be turning,” she whispered.

“Or he.” Mulder kissed her bare shoulder and trailed up her neck. “You are so beautiful, Scully.”

“Beautiful,” she scoffed. “More like a fat whale.”

“Whales are pretty too.”

“You’ve never seen a whale.”

“We’ve read about them, but you are so much prettier than a whale.” He hugged her closer. “You’re the mother of our unborn child. You are a goddess.”

“Goddess.” She laughed. “Now you are just trying to pander to me.”

“Venus. Hera.”

“Venus never had children. Hera dealt with a cheating husband.”

“Venus, also known as Aphrodite, had Cupid.”

“With some nameless man. You aren’t nameless nor do you go around having sex with every woman that you meet,” she observed. She waited for Mulder’s response. “Mulder?”

“I am a homewrecker though, Scully.”

“Mulder, we’ve been through this. You are my husband. When I took you to my bed, it was my decision and my husband was missing. I chose you, Mulder and I would do it again.” She shivered against the cold night air. “However, as much as I adore you worshipping me, I’m cold.”

“Sorry.”

Mulder pulled a blanket off the small couch and around her. “I’ll let you get dressed.”

“Who said anything about getting dressed, mister? Bed. You and me.” She gave him a wicked smile and his eyebrows rose in understanding. “Got it?”

. . . .

Mulder blinked as his fingers continued to caress her scar. Scully watched him curiously and wondered what was running through his head. He smiled softly, soothing the fear in her blue eyes. “I just was remembering. When you were pregnant. You were so self-conscious about it.”

She gave him a weak smile, unsure how to reply to it. “I remember.” She cleared her throat. “So, leave it?”

He nodded and gave her a quick kiss. “Like I said, we have a matching pair now. Now to more important matters at hand. Does Agent Scully need assistance in applying protective sunscreen?”

“To watch or wash my back?”

“Rub and massage it are better words.”

“I thought you would never ask.” Scully tossed him the high SPF sunscreen and turned to watch the Atlantic waves. She could hear Mulder struggle with the cap. “Shit,” he murmured.

She felt his fingertips gently graze the point between her shoulder blades and as he began to smooth the lotion into her back. She rolled her neck to the side and closed her eyes like a cat. It felt good and she could feel some of the tension begin to leave her. She could only imagine Mulder’s intense focus over the simple task. “You are certainly taking great care.”

“I was mapping your freckles,” he teased. Mulder kissed the crook of her neck. “I feel that you are finally relaxing.”

“Maybe just a bit.”

“Just a bit. I say we lay out here for a bit and then we can go inside, take a nap, check out the seafood grill by mile marker nine, maybe have some mind-blowing sex between now and then and go to bed.”

Scully smiled and pursed her lips in thought. “I think that, in addition to that, if the weather is supposed to be clear, maybe a little stargazing on the deck?”

“Is that supposed to be code for something?”

“No,” she smiled innocently.

. . . .

Even when those two agents were miles away, on vacation no less, they still had the magical ability to give AD Skinner the worst migraines imaginable. He leaned back into the leather office chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to stem and cut off a migraine before it could start. He had been in contact with Mulder earlier that morning and he spoke quietly in hushed tones likely so he would not wake his partner. Skinner was not stupid. After December, something had changed between Mulder and Scully, and while most of the other busybodies in the Hoover let it pass by, it did not escape his own keen powers of observance. They had finally put some truth in that scuttlebutt, no matter how well they thought they hid it. But it was good to have his agents back in the basement. It made him feel a little more secure knowing that they were back. He resisted the urge to call them back from their vacation. It was probably best his agents were far away from D.C. even though Buckley had escaped down near Pasquotank County, they would remain out of danger during the manhunt that was underway.

A sharp rapping on Skinner’s office door caused him to look up, wondering who the hell was risking his wrath. “Come in.”

The door pushed open slightly and Kimberly’s head popped in. “Sorry, sir, but there is someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“A Special Agent Bobby Benson,” the secretary told him.

“Ah. Benson’s the SAC of the Norfolk office,” he said to himself. “Send him in.”

He pushed himself up from his desk as a tall, bedraggled agent with a rumpled black tie, and a suit that could stand up by itself. He offered his hand to the SAC and shook hands. “Good to meet you, Benson. What brings you to Washington? Isn’t there a manhunt you should be running.”

Benson chuckled and Skinner could see bags under the agent’s eyes. “No, sir. I’m here to get my ass chewed out by an AD Kersh.” He sighed. “Because your agents were under my purvey during Buckley’s last capture, apparently I did something wrong that enabled Buckley to escape again. Or something. I really don’t know.”

“Kersh has always had it out for Mulder,” Skinner remarked. “But tell me, what brings you here to my office?”

“I wanted to brief you about the situation myself. I plan on flying back to Norfolk this afternoon and meet with Yarrow.” He read the unasked question in Skinner’s face. “Yarrow is the SAC for the eastern North Carolina field office. We’re overseeing this together since the escape happened in his backyard but it was my prisoner. And our wives happen to be partner bridge players back in the day.”

“Small world.”

“I live in Virginia Beach, he lives in Charlotte,” Benson shrugged. “But he’s taken over my office in the meantime as we coordinate the manhunt. We were actually roommates back at the academy so it’s like nothing’s really changed.”

Skinner nodded with a slight chuckle and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Benson sat in the chair and drew up toward his desk. “So what was so important I could not read it from a report.”

Benson sighed and rubbed his chin in thought and sighed. “I understand Mulder and Scully have their basement office back again.”

“Yes. Before they took their separate leaves, they had just gotten back from one of their first cases in California. They were undercover.”

“Separate,” Benson chuckled to himself. “Something changed between them down there, back in December.”

Skinner held his tongue at the cheeky comment well aware of the scuttlebutt that was floating throughout the Hoover. “Whatever that is.”

Benson raised his hands in defense. “My wife was my first SAC sectary and we’ve been happily married for over 20 years. Are you married, sir?”

The AD twisted at the wedding band absently. “I was.”

“So you understand the difficulties of the job and married life.”

“Too well. So what was so important that you couldn’t send this in an email?”

Benson dug into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. “After the smoke had settled, I had my boys trace the supposed anonymous tip that led us to Portsmouth and Buckley. It was Agent Fowley who let us know of the tip. But there was no notification or evidence of the call coming through. I even ran her cell phone records, nothing. And then at the sight of Buckley's escape, there were butts of Morelys. I was told that might be of interest for you.”

“It is,” Skinner answered. He took the file from the SAC. “So there is no record of an anonymous tip at all?”

“Not even an email?”

“Nothing. Fowley always seemed to always be a step ahead. Her appearence during the case was more than timely. I can’t prove anything of course but…” He let the unspoken accusation float between them. “You can imagine my predicament.”

“Fowley has disappeared,” Skinner replied. “Mysteriously reassigned to some field office back up in New York now that Mulder and Scully have the files back.”

“Have you been in contact with your agents?”

“Yes. I spoke to Mulder this morning. Right now, I want them to stay away from D.C.”

“Where are they?”

“Nags Head. Somewhere in the Outer Banks.”

Benson pinched his nose and closed his eyes. “That’s Yarrow’s yard and not that far from my area. We know Buckley’s escape occurred not far from Elizabeth City, which is about an hour from the Outer Banks and a little further from Norfolk. We haven’t seen anything yet. If anything Buckley is unpredictable. We’re using Mulder’s profiles from last time.”

Skinner looked thoughtfully at Benson and told him. “After you get done with Kersh, if you are willing to wait, I’ll come back to Norfolk with you.”

“I appreciate the help but…”

The AD’s cool gaze caused Benson to nod instead. “Have it your way, sir. I’m not one to turn down free help, especially from an AD.”

. . . .

Mulder felt the tension leaving his body as he relaxed on the beach blanket under the large umbrella he had brought from the rental house. In the distance, he saw Scully walking along the shore and letting the surf wash up on her bare feet. He could see the fading red scar on her back and front but as the afternoon progressed, she became less self-conscious about it on the deserted beach. He wondered if she was beginning to feel at ease as well. Washington was far away. There were three different federal agencies and local police scouring the countryside for Buckley. No one knew that they were.

He wished he could know what his partner was thinking.

The sea breeze blew her hair and obscured as something caught her interest. Where did they stand now? As if sensing his thoughts, she looked up and gave a coy smile gesturing for him to join her near the shoreline. Pushing himself up, the warm sand shifted uneasily as he made his way towards Scully.

“What are you looking it,” he asked softly.

She took his hands and pulled him next to her. “I was watching a sand crab. Come here, Mulder.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Scully.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin atop of her head. She relaxed against him and rubbed her hands up and down his back in a soothing motion. “You’re worried,” she said softly.

“Always.” He tried to make jokes or change the subject when things seemed awkward. “I’ve just been worrying about us, Buckley, the future, our future, everything.” He gave a fake chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, Scully.”

“I do, Mulder. I will always worry about you.” She bit her lower lip. “We never really talked about it.” He tensed slightly. “What happened last month. You were there for me but I never really asked how you felt?”

“Come on, Scully.”

He loosened his arms around her waist and shook his head. “What I feel is irrelevant, Scully.”

“That’s something we need to talk about, Mulder. We rushed to make the decision about the IVF and really didn’t take into account the possibility of if it worked or what it could mean. We just got our work back and the possibility…” She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I know you don’t want to lose it. I know what it means to you.”

Mulder opened his lips to answer her but could not form any words. He lowered his head breaking there shared a gaze. She sighed and looked back out to the ocean. “Let’s get our stuff, Mulder and take a nap before dinner.”

“Okay.”

He watched as his partner climbed back up the sand dunes to start packing up their things. He pursed his lips wondering if he would ever be able to summon up the courage to talk about their future together when the world was not falling down around them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some thinking and realization occur in the present and in flashbacks.

3.

November 1, 1862  
Yorktown, Virginia

Mulder ran his left thumb over his new wedding band, a simple silver band that seemed shiner and a little less beat up than his previous wedding band he had worn as a widow. It still gave him shivers to think of Scully as his wife now, well, officially his wife for almost three months. He grinned remembering the awkward ceremony as their new landlord and his wife when William and Katherine Healey revealed their true selves as two fugitives fleeing from the burning city of Norfolk. There had been tension and argument but it was nice to have them on their side.

It was nice to have a piece of paper, married in the eyes of God, Fox Mulder and Dana Katherine Scully Mulder, still just the Healey’s to everyone else.. They fled to Yorktown after the Union had invaded Norfolk and had planned to flee towards northern lines and out of the Confederacy but things had happened so fast with so many things to be considered. There were too many variables and risk and the last thing he wanted to do was risk Scully’s life, the woman who had become his sole reason for living.

That fall evening left a heavy chill in the air that made Mulder wonder if snow was coming. He folded the extra wool blankets he had procured from the Skinners earlier that day and set them on the edge of their bed. The Union’s troops remained garrisoned in Yorktown and with winter coming were likely to stay there.

He heard her light steps lightly echo at the stairwell to their small hovel that was sat over the Skinner’s stables and coach house. He went and stoked the small fireplace for his wife as she almost kicked open the door. He winced and forced a smile. “A good day at the market, Scully?”

“Dismail. I don’t know how Sharon deals with that bastard of a butcher. He hardly has anything to spare since those damn Yanks decided to take everything.”

“Well, if it wasn’t for the Skinner’s need for labor and lack of a horse, we wouldn’t have a place to stay,” he countered. He frowned, taking in Scully’s frizzled hair that peaked out from her bunn. “Is it raining?”

She nodded. “It just started but it is cold enough it should snow.”

She eased the basket she had been carrying and placed it in front of the hearth. Awkwardly, she drew out a small pot that had been covered by a cloth. In another part of the basket were biscuits. “What’s this?”

“Dinner,” she smiled. “I made it earlier today.”

“You cooked?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not trying to poison you, Mulder.”

“Poison your loving husband?”

“I know other ways to make you pay. Give me a hand and put that over the fire to keep it warm.”

He lifted the pot easily to hang near the small fire. He took the wooden spoon from her basket and stirred it catching the most delicious smell. “Mmmm” He gave her a warm smiled. “Smells wonderful.”

“Well, hopefully, it tastes wonderful too. It still has a couple of hours to cook.”

Mulder pulled helped her up and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her close. She smiled indulgently and raked her fingers through his hair. Her heart swelled as she let herself get lost in his eyes. From the moment they started working together as conspirators and their little self-made spy ring. It had only been a matter of months before everything changed in between them and then the Union closed in around them. So they ran and they have never looked back.

She kissed him lightly. “So what to do during that time, Mulder?”

“How about we pick up where we left off with Moby Dick?”

“I’ll go get it.”

She moved to go to their bed to retrieve the book but he caught her hand. “Scully, one more thing. I know you weren’t happy with your marriage with the Captain. I know our lives are less than ideal. But I want to know, are you happy? That we’re married?”

She tilted her head and arched a curious (or suspicious) eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“I want…” He looked down at his feet and blushed. “I want you to be happy. I just want to make you happy.”

“You do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Mulder, for the first time in my life, I know where I belong. And I don’t regret a moment of it. Never forget that, you fool.”

… .

Scully twisted in the bed pulling the duvet around her thinking of Mulder. With another deep breath, she opened her eyes rolling onto her back. The low light of the fading afternoon reflected against the pale white walls through the windows. She rubbed her temple and felt the lingering effects of the past dream (or was it another forgotten memory?). She was tired of all these dreams or past memories that never seemed end. How much did her past life rule her over the current one? Was it all the same? Why could not they be as communicative now as they were then? Or be as happy. Were they happy? Scully groaned and tried to dispel the ill thoughts. Sitting up and peeling the light blanket off, she threw her feet over the edge of the bed. Her hand smoothed the bed absently as her thoughts drifted to Mulder. Where was he?

“No, sir,” Mulder’s hushed voice came from the living room.

With her interest peaked, her bare feet padded across the white carpet and into the next room. Scully could see Mulder sitting on the couch with his cellphone against his ear, hunched over, his hand obscuring his face. She knew that posture and that something was wrong without saying anything. His entire body demeanor had shifted as if sheltering from a coming storm as the clouds around him swirled with tension. Scully placed a small hand on the valley between his shoulder blades and rhythmically ran her hand up and down soothingly. He stretched like a cat, something popping as he did, as he sat up straighter to give Scully better access to his back.

“Our report clearly reflected that, sir,” Mulder frowned. “Yes, I understand. Yes. Yes. I’ll continue to enjoy my vacation as ordered, sir. And I will pass along the same to Agent Scully. Yes, sir.” He winced as he ended the call. “Evening, sleepy head. Sleep okay?”

“I just woke up and you weren’t there,” she whispered. She studied his stressed features and how he looked to become lost in his thoughts like he did with one of their cases. “I know that look.” He nodded absently. “Mulder, talk to me.”

He reached for her and Scully felt another moment of deja vu come over her from their past lives when they used to be more demonstrative of their affection. She let him wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his lap. Such actions were rare between them but it was affirming nonetheless. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, burying her face into her chest. She was surprised by the gesture and wrapped her hands around his neck holding him close.

“What is it, Mulder? Tell me.”

“There is still no trace of Buckley,” he told her. His voice was muffled against her shirt. “Nothing. Not a body. Not a trace of evidence. It is like he never existed.” He let out a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “I just have a really bad feeling, Scully..”

“Mulder, are you certain?” She raked her nails through his hair soothingly and he held her closely. “Are you sure it’s nothing? I know we said we would stay away but…”

“Yes. And Skinner is coming down to Norfolk to work with Benson and help coordinate efforts.”

“Does that mean we have to leave?”

“No.” Mulder looked up at her and shook his head. “No. He is ordered us to stay away, on our separate vacations. He was quite insistent about it,” he teased. The worry did not leave her face and he kissed her lightly. “Don’t worry, Scully.”

She took a deep breath, choosing to remain silent and settled for a quick kiss and talk about their potential dinner plans.

… . .

April 23, 1862  
Norfolk, Virginia

Scully stood at the window of the master bedroom that overlooked the Elizabeth River and imagined seeing the giant ironclad steaming past again even though March seemed like a lifetime ago. She could remember seeing the distant smoke wondering if that was a sunken ship or the CSS Virginia that had carried her husband and the distant lieutenant who had become her partner in spying and now dear friend. Spring was late to come and winter seemed to linger with May only a few weeks away. She wrapped her arms around herself at the thought of the pending danger the lay across the water and on the peninsula.

General George B. McClellan and his Union army had landed at Fort Monroe back in March. The Union had just broken through Yorktown not less than ten days ago. The union occupation had made getting information out easier but Dana was worrying for when the Union would come and invade Norfolk. It was all a matter of time before things would come crashing down. What would she do then? There had been no word of the Captain except his wound had gone south and there was no chance of survival. So was she still a wife or a widow? What was she fighting for? What about Mulder?

She heard the structures of the building exhale as the back door of her home slam shut. It was growing late. She had dismissed the servants earlier in the afternoon knowing that Mulder was to be by. The housing staff already knew her husband had installed Lieutenant Mulder to be her moral guardian to ensure his wife was safe. She remembered on the first of the month, receiving the news of her husband’s condition, his death almost guaranteed by the medical officers in Richmond and she had felt nothing.

But she had felt things for Mulder. It had been less than ten days where one evening, after that fateful night, and things had changed between them. She could not imagine her self with anyone else. In Mulder, she found a kindred spirit. They continued their little spy ring as he continued to funnel information to her and she would relay it Union informant. He frequently came by her home and sometimes, just for the company.

She could hear his heavy footfalls coming slowly up the stairs. “In here!”

His footsteps drew closer and she rubbed her arms at the mere thought of being surrounded by him again. Maybe she would even have him spend the night; the idea was tempting. She could feel goosebumps rise on the back of her neck as she got shivers just thinking about the thrill of what they had, whatever that is. Was she cheating on her husband? Scully came to a realization. As far as she was concerned, her husband was likely dead (and the slim chance of the Captain being alive was dying as well). She heard the door open and felt her small self embraced by him.

“Take off that damn jacket, Mulder. You know I hate the itchy wool.”

She turned into his chest, unbuttoning the wool shell jacket and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist. “I missed you as well, Scully.”

She looked up and her blue eyes stared lovingly into his eyes. “Are you planning on staying the night?”

“Are we alone?”

“Yes.” She nodded and stroked his cheek. “I’ve missed you, Mulder. A lot. Did you get my information like I asked?”

He got lost in eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?” He tapped his temple. “Of course I did but is it all business with you?”

He peeled off the gray shell jacket and tossed it on the couch. “Of course not.” She laughed and kissed him soothingly. “Are you hungry, Mulder?”

“In more than one sense of the word,” he said softly. “Today was frustrating.”

She began to unbutton his uniform jacket letting her fingers linger over the brass buttons. “How so?”

He shook his head. “The Union is right across the river. McClellan’s army is gathering and the Confederates…I just have a bad feeling, Scully.”

“Try not to worry about it tonight,” she whispered. “I saved some dinner for you if you are still hungry.”

“If things had been different and there hadn’t been a war…”

“But we have now, Mulder.”

She was quiet and enjoyed the closeness. They lingered, relishing in the intimacy. For the first time in their lives, there was something more and worth holding on to. Mulder bent his head and kissed her gingerly and Scully pushed against him in invitation. “Dinner late,” he questioned stealing a kiss.

“Now,” she ordered.

That was all it took as he wrapped her up into his arms, groaning at the restricting materials of her dress. “I told you that everything would be easier if you would stop wearing this thing.”

“Stop talking, Mulder,” she ordered softly.

… . .

Mulder thought it was weird to be holding the woman he loved in his former commanding officer’s bed. The same bed that he had taken Scully to just a couple of weeks ago. Her small petite body had melted next to him in the afterglow of their lovemaking. A lingering thought flashed through his mind as he whispered, “Do we have to worry about…”

“About what?” She stroked her chest lazily.

“If we have a little Scully running around.”

“It won’t happen,” she replied.

Her curt reply told him she was done discussing the matter but he was not. He knew the Captain had nine other children by his first wife before he had married Scully but he was curious how she managed to be child free after seven years of marriage. During their short ten-day whirlwind of a romance of a little more than 10 days, he never questioned how she managed to remain child free from the captain during the course of their seven-year marriage.

“I was supposed to be a father,” he confessed on a whim. “About…oh eight or so years ago. My wife and child died in childbirth. You’re the first one I have…” He paused as she shifted beneath the blankets and felt her tense. He drew a deep breath trying to draw strength from her even though she did scare him as well. “You’re the only one I want to be with now, Scully.”

“You’ve mentioned it,” she whispered. “And I do not say that lightly.” Her warm lips kissed the center of his chest and she could feel the strong heartbeat beneath her kiss. “No secrets, Mulder. Remember?”

“I can’t remember sometimes whether it was a boy or girl. The story changes depending on the day. Or the mood.”

“I think you said it was a girl and another time a boy.”

“I was supposed to be a father but then I wasn’t. I was supposed to be a husband and then I wasn’t. She died the child died. I sometimes wonder if it was for the best. There was no love in the marriage or in the family. The night I saw you and when you asked me…I don’t know, Scully. Everything changed.”

“And last week?”

“For the better. I was just thinking about it.”

“I told you I am a woman of many resources, yes?”

“You are many things, Scully. I have never met anyone like you before.”

Scully looked up towards him and caressed his cheek slowly. “Mulder, we need to talk about something. In case…when the Union comes, we need to have a plan. I know what…”

“Not right now, Scully. I believe I owe you another dance.”

… . .

Scully watched Mulder in the present navigate the kitchen after their afternoon grocery run to Food Lion. This new shift in domesticity was welcoming and familiar, Scully thought, or was she having flashbacks to her old life again? She thought that as the months would progress that the memories would settle like dust and she could easily access like a library card catalog. But it was still hard. Everything was hard. “What are you doing, Mulder?”

“I want to cook us dinner instead,” he answered. “Save our money instead of going out tonight.”

“What about those scallops we picked up from the local seafood market? We could throw together a salad. What else did you buy?”

“Um,” he sighed. “I don’t remember.”

“You’re distracted.” Scully watched him rest his hand and hunch over one of the kitchen counters. “Mulder.”

He lifted his head like it weighed a ton. “Yes, Scully?”

She came up behind of him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her face into his back, kissing the space between his shoulder blades. “Talk to me.”

“I remember what we were talking about one night when all this happened. How the memories aren’t as clean cut as they should be and things sometimes blend together.” He turned to face her and stood trapped in her arms. “I wonder about us too. More so than usual. When you asked my help for the IVF, we miraculously avoided the topic if it worked…”

“It didn’t though. We both know that.”

“Why did you ask me, Scully? Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“You could have had any number of suitable donors,” he continued. He looked down. “Someone of Frohike’s caliber.”

She smiled slightly and recognized the self-defense humor. “I don’t want Frohike. I thought about it very seriously. I want you. We were happy in that life, Mulder. I want that again with you. I want what was taken from us.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“You leave the work. Me.”

“I am not going to leave you.” She watched his face as it contorted into something she had not seen before (or had she)? She framed his face in her hands and whispered. “Mulder.” She frowned as he continued to avoid eye contact. “Mulder, look at me.”

“What about the work?” He turned his head defiantly and stared at the wall. “There’s a reason why we don’t talk like we used to, Scully.”

“Look at me!” Her voice was soft but it carried weight like he had been hit in the chest. “Mulder, if anything in this life or the last should prove anything to you, you can’t get rid of me. I asked you because of what we both remembered. We were happy and I am happy with you now. I want us…”

“I get it, Scully. I do.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m not leaving the x-files. I’m not leaving you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“What scares you more, Mulder? The thought of losing the x-files? Me? Not finding your sister? Or the thought of what we have and the possibility of a future?”

Once upon a time, Mulder had lost the x-files but he had also lost his partner too. Suddenly the crusade to save his sister that he had started as a twelve-year-old had vanished with the very real and tangible abduction of his partner. And it destroyed him. Then she came back. Then cancer. Then Ritter’s bullet. He closed his eyes and recalled her unconscious form in the NYU medical center. He could not imagine a life without her. There was nothing without her.

“You. I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t. Losing you scares me the most in the world and is one of my greatest fears.” He took a deep breath. “You forget. I did watch you die, Scully with my own two eyes. Remembering it was like…” He closed his eyes, trying to search for the words. “I can’t find the way to express what it did to me and what it still doesn’t to me. When I saw you lying in the bed in New York, recovering from that rat Ritt’ers bullet, it was like deja vu all over again for me, Scully. You forget I’ve seen it before. But I’m also afraid for the future.”

“Then why fear what could be?”

“How much of it is really us or are our past lives ruling over our current ones?”

A common theme between the two of them. Scully had been wondering the same thing herself as well. “I don’t have the answer to that, Mulder,” she whispered softly. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed under his neck tenderly. “But I do know I was already in love with you before Buckley and all this happened.”

“You were?”

“Uh huh.” She nodded and let her hands run up and down his arms. “Haven’t I told you this before? For a long time now. Look I don’t have a scientific explanation for what we are going through or what we discovered. But we both remember, there’s the photo, the rings…”

“You never had any forensic evidence done on those rings,” he whispered, “or had them appraised by a historian.”

“I just know, Mulder.” She drew in a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart. “Because I believe that there is something more to it. I believe and I know that I love you. Maybe…” She paused trying to consider her words carefully. “Maybe, Mulder the things that awakened within us just confirmed what we already had or were too afraid to face.”

He quietly considered her words. “You really love me, huh?”

“I must since I keep coming back,” she replied. “And I’m the only one insane enough to put up with you.”

She pushed forward and hugged him tightly and Mulder returned it and burrowed his nose into her hair. “I swear you were made just for me,” he whispered. “You’re height is perfect.”

“I was,” she affirmed. She broke away from their embrace. “Now, let’s make dinner. I’m hungry and enough being gloomy about the house, huh? I’ll get the scallops and salad. You can make our other side dish, whatever you want.”

“That sounds good, Scully.”

… .

Buckley wrinkled his nose at the stench of the smoker’s cigarette smoke as the Cigarette Man placed a duffel bag in front of him. “We’re letting you go,” he drawled taking another drag from his cigarette. “Alex will be in touch with you.”

“Alex?” He snarled in distaste.

“Alex Krycek. You still have value and we would like to make use of it,”

“Fine.”

Buckley’s mind was already rolling at the possibilities. He knew that Mulder and Scully weren’t in D.C. Where else could they be? Maybe start in Yorktown where it had all started to begin with.

… . .

Mulder watched Scully from the kitchen island as she artfully turned the sizzling scallops they had bought in the pan. He loved to watch her. Hands that could heal, dissect and tell the stories of the dead, and now, cook their dinner. “Soup, salad, and scallops,” she said thoughtfully.

“All cooked by Scully,” Mulder finished.

“You bought us the soup. I’m eager to try it.”

“Courtesy from the restaurant across the street. Nags Head’s finest Hatteras clam chowder,” he recited. “I’d never heard of such of things before tonight. It’s completely different from the stuff I grew up on the Vineyard.”

“I’m almost done here, Mulder. Do you want to eat outside on the deck tonight? The sun is supposed to set in a bit and the weather’s still nice.”

“Yeah,” he nodded absently. “I’ll set the table outside. What do you want to drink?”

“Let’s share that bottle of chardonnay.”

“Coming up.”

As Scully put the finishing touches on their dinner, he grabbed some pasta bowls out of a cupboard and two large coffee mugs, sitting the cups next to Scully so she could grab the soup. Before he was about to pull away, she kissed his cheek, surprising him. “What was that for, Scully?”

“It’s not often where we can let our guard down, Mulder and I feel that I should do more. You are doing perfectly. Just keep being you,” she soothed. Before he could say anything, she playfully pushed him away. “Now go make me a sandwich.”

The enigma that was Dana Scully. Even at the moment, after feeling like he had known her for two lifetimes, she still managed to surprise him. He gathered the rest of their dinner supplies and set up an intimate setting for them. Minutes later, she came out balancing all three dishes as Mulder grabbed the soup tray as it was about to tip over. “Did you serve in another life, Scully?”

“I was bellhop on roller skates one summer in high school.” She laughed. “You would’ve laughed at me along with everyone else. Braces, glasses, the whole nine yards.” He watched her expertly set the other two dishes on the table. “But I was a beast.”

He could imagine his partner, a geeky science nerd, roller skating in a little waitress uniform, smiling as her braces reflected the light of the drive-in theatre. He blinked and saw his 19th-century wife and then his 20th century FBI partner (in more than one way). All he knew was that they belonged together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully continue to try and enjoy their vacation. Skinner tries to track down Buckley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. Hopefully it turned out okay.

When it first happened for me, when I first remembered, I genuinely thought I was going crazy. The cops were already calling me a serial killer for the first three murders that I committed back in ‘97. Then after the feds caught me. Then the other memories started swirling like a goddamn tornado. I’ve told you about it before. I got two other lifetimes rattling up around there and it was hard. But I know my priorities. I have my priorities. I don’t want my wife back. I want her and that bastard to suffer for what they did to me. The Smoker sprung me from jail and just gave me ten thousand dollars and a means to get back at the ones who did this to me. And I know where exactly to start.

. . . .

Scully always loved watching Mulder sleep. Something about it that she found grounding, almost like a connection to the Earth. But recently, since their evolved relationship, it had become almost primal as in he belongs to me and no one else official. She sat up in their bed, resting her back against the wooden headboard. She shifted the tee shirt she had pilfered from Mulder earlier in the evening and wished she could have been in something a little less confining.

Their dinner had been a quiet affair and afterward, they retired to their bedroom and watched a movie on AMC. Mulder had fallen asleep sometime around ten and Scully still found herself up watching the television as a rerun of The Twilight Zone came on. She remembered catching reruns of the show late at night with Charlie as a kid, arguing over the practical implications of the storylines. She smiled at the memory and wished Mulder was awake so she could do the same now. That was something she liked to do in her current life, she mused, but it was also something she liked do then too. They also argued and that was one of the first things that she had found attractive about in Bellefleur on their first case: his mind.

She shifted in bed and rested her hand on her arm and took a moment to appreciate his profile. How could both of them have the same souls and the same faces after more than a century? How would genetics be involved? Was she her own great-great-own-relative? What about him? Had their child lived? It seemed impossible but she believed. The photo that she had could have been doctored and placed as a clue by the unnamed powers that had manipulated their lives and put the chip in her neck. But what about the rings? She just knew from the moment she touched them those rings belonged to them. Psychometry, Mulder had called it but she preferred to call it faith. Scully traced his profile with her right index finger trying to catalog his face like he was one of her unanswered questions.

Faith.

She thought she had lost her faith awhile ago yet she still believed, at the very least, she believed in them.

“Why you up?” he mumbled sleepily catching her off guard. She moved to shut off the television but he caught her hand. “Leave it. I can at least see you.” His eyes opened and he squinted at the screen. “The Twilight Zone?”

“I was just remembering,” she said softly.

“Something new?”

“Something from my childhood. I used to watch this show with Charlie and we would argue, or rather I would, about the practicality of the plot.” She smiled in the television’s light. “Whether or not such things could actually happen.”

Mulder could hear the lightness in her soft chuckle. He reached for her, pulling her close. “Of course you would. I imagine the argument was one-sided.”

“It was. I hadn’t met my match yet.”

“And who might that be.”

She slapped his bicep playfully and whispered, ”Shut up, Mulder. You know who.”

Mulder took a deep breath and felt her snuggle closer as if trying to burrow herself next to him. “What is it, Scully?”

“Just thinking about everything.”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No. I was just thinking about us. Past, present, and future.”

“We’ve both been doing that a lot lately.”

“Any regrets, Mulder?”

“For us? Never. Why do you ask?”

“I just wonder how all this could be possible with everything,” she whispered. “Nothing new.”

He hummed in thought as his hand, with a will of its own, worked its way underneath her tee shirt. She rolled slightly away from him to give him more access. “What do you wonder,” he murmured.

Invitation received, loud and clear.

“One of the first things I fell in love with was your mind,” she whispered to him. “Back in Bellefleur on our first case.”

“My mind?”

Scully felt herself relaxing under his ministrations and sucked in a deep breath in surprise as his arm pushed her shirt up and ran his fingers around her breast. She bit her lip as he bent forward and kissed her. She tried to form coherent words. “Yes. Your mind.”

“What else?”

“Are you that vain, Mulder?”

“Not currently, no.”

His mouth traveled to her chest and enveloped one of her breasts erotically within his mouth. Scully’s hips arched off the mattress as she brought her hands around his head, holding him against her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of him. Mulder surrounding her. Mulder made her feel like a goddess. Mulder loving her for all eternity.

“Why?”

Mulder heard her question. Why was he doing this? Why her? Was this real? Why? Mulder gave her breast the worship they were due before gently removing his mouth to move downwards as he slipped off her tee shirt. Why? He loved her. He knew this was his soulmate. Somehow, they had loved each other for at least two lifetimes. He just knew in his bones and soul she was the one.

“Why? Why not?”

She sighed and flushed her shoulders against the mattress as if trying to flatten herself against the mattress for Mulder’s advantage. She wanted to forget momentarily and just let it be them. To just live in the moment. The first night the consummated their partnership in this lifetime was one that he could not forget. Every time he made love to Scully he tried to memorize every aspect of it.

“Mulder. I want to forget everything else tonight. Can you do that? Can you make me forget for brief?”

“No,” he whispered. His voice was low and husky. He raised his head and met her eyes. “I will make it so the only thing you feel, realize, and remember is us.” She squirmed beneath him and felt herself grow hot. She ran her hand down his smooth back and silently watched his dark eyes. “Which is infinitely better. Do you want to watch?”

Scully nodded and licked her lips hungrily. The tension between them since January had been palpable. After the failure of the first round of the IVF and the shadow of Diana still lurking around, things were tense but they were still able to find comfort in their new intimacy. The honeymoon seemed to end when they played husband and wife in Arcadia and the tension returned, worse than before, but since they had been in the Outer Banks for the past few days, they were getting back to basics. Or so she thought.

“Tell me how you want it, Scully,” he murmured against her thigh.

“I’m leaving that up to you, Mulder.” She hissed feeling the first fiery streak of his tongue. “But try to make it last.”

“Simple enough.”

Scully leaned back into the pillows as Mulder gently pulled the last barriers of clothing that separated them. She relaxed into the sensations of his mouth against her hot core as he strummed her like a musician tuning his instrument. She let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered against her skin.

“We’ve done enough connecting,” she whispered.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, sending shivers through her. “Not like this. Not enough. There’s never enough. Moments like this, Scully, I feel like I have known you forever...more than just six years, more than two lifetimes.”

He went back to lovingly kissing, flicking, and sucking that sacred spot of hers as her toes curled into the sheets and her nails raked through his hair. “Forever,” she chuckled. She clenched when he introduced those amazing fingers into the mix. “Forever is a long time.”

“You are an eternity, Scully.”

He carefully brought her to her first climax as she gasped silently and closed her eyes as she felt the familiar spasms and Mulder riding the wave with her. His warmth surrounded her as he moved up the bed, bring the quilt with him. She turned to her side and wrapped a leg around Mulder’s hip and scratched his upper back invitingly. “Do you want to know my favorite thing about moments like this, Mulder?” Scully whispered. She kissed him slowly up his clavicle. “The intimacy between us...how everything feels so natural. And the funny thing was is that it’s always been like this, even before Norfolk.”

“How so?”

He pushed his hips enticingly against hers. Scully chuckled softly and pulled him closer. “Bellefleur. Our first case. Do you remember the mosquito bites?”

“Had I known it was my charm earlier on…” he teased.

“Seriously, Mulder.” He thrust against her again and she felt him like a branding iron. Her blood began to sing again and a new thought started to form in her mind. “I remember feeling safe with you and that’s when I decided I would always follow you into the darkness. But I want to remember that feeling again. I want to try to mix it up.”

“Mix it,” he chuckled. He kissed her again and she twisted against him. “How so?”

“I want you to surround me,” she answered. “All over. I want you to take me from behind.”

She was very rarely vocal with her wants and he was more than happy to comply. “Slow or hard and fast?”

“Slow,” she told him.

“Slow,” he murmured. “I can do that.”

Scully rolled onto her stomach and raised her hips. Mulder got behind her and spread her hips sensually, running her hands up and down her thighs hypnotically. Mulder rolled his neck, drinking in the sight before him. She was and had always been an exquisite heavenly creature. Scully groaned appreciatively at his ministrations. “Mulder, you’re killing me.”

“That is the opposite of what I want to achieve,” he said. “Just a little wider.”

He entered swiftly to the hilt and her eyes rolled back into her head ad her knuckles turned white as she grasped the sheets. It was not pain or pleasure but the sheer feeling of fulfillment of being completed and whole. “Mulder,” she moaned. He bent over her and the skin on skin contact inflamed them eternally.. Feeling his chest against her back, his arms and legs entangling around her. He was completely enclosed around her. It felt so good. “Mulder, this...this…”

“I know, Scully, I know. I feel it too.”

He moved easily within her, around her, it didn’t matter. He was here. They were here. They were together. Memories of a past life together that seemed too quick to the sensations of the present, remembered the past, and became caught up in the possibility of the future. They were coming together. Scully cried his name as he howled into her shoulder. They had now. As they rode the wave together, Mulder went lax and rolled off to the side. For the first time in a long while, Scully felt sedated. Her entire body melted as Mulder rode wave after wave of pleasure together with her. Then he gathered her up as she reformed, melded at his side. She sighed and lightly ran her hand up and down his chest over his heart as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Mulder,” she murmured.

“Mmph,” he responded. He was already on the edge of sleep. He still had Scully and that was all that mattered.

“I want to try again.”

“Try what?”

“The IVF.”

His eyes opened and he kissed her fiery red hair instinctively as if to assure himself she was not a dream. “Are you sure, Scully?”

“Yes.” She remembered how much she loved this man, her husband in one life and partner in another, her soulmate. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. We’ll do it first thing when we get back.”

. . . .

Skinner felt another headache coming on, this time, courtesy of a problem that his two agents had handled this case. He could not remember the last time he had been in Norfolk. Maybe when he had still been in the Marines in Vietnam but any navy town still carried the same spirit. Being back at a field office carried a different air as well in contrast to D.C. He looked up from his reading of Mulder and Scully’s case files to watch Benson and Yarrow, two different SACs coordinate effortlessly with one another as they spanned two states with enough manpower to find the Unabomber.

“I don’t give a fuck if the North Carolina hasn’t found a clue,” Benson yelled. “That bastard killed eight people in my turf and I want him found.”

“I thought it was only seven,” Yarrow said neutrally.

“I include the unborn child he slaughtered from the last victim,” he snarled.

Skinner watched the room of agents freeze momentarily under Benson’s fury before scurrying back to their tasks. The assistant director got out of his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Dealing with Mulder and Scully’s aftermath was worse than dealing with his agents in person. He quietly excused himself, drawing out his cell phone and walking through the hallways and out into the sidewalk of downtown Norfolk.

Skinner was surprised how warm March had been this year. It was a relief to see the two of them stepping back from their work even though he suspected--no, he knew--that there was something more going on between them. After the case back in December and the kidnapping, something had changed between Mulder and Scully’s partnership. They weren’t fooling anyone at this point. His mind went back to his first instinct in recalling his agents to assist in the recapture of Buckley but he quickly vetoed the idea. They deserved some time away and were likely safer away from everything.

Skinner spent a few more minutes outside before disappearing back into the building and into a flurry of new activity. Phones were ringing. Benson was snapping his fingers at an agent near him. “Yarrow,” Benson shouted. “We got a lead. Tappahannock.”

Yarrow nodded. “Damon. Andrews. Get on it!”

Skinner looked at Benson in confusion. “What? What is it?”

“Somebody caught sight of him at a gas station.”

“Where?”

“Yorktown,” Yarrow said. “That’s your backyard, Benson.”

“I know but that doesn’t make sense,” Benson started. “He escaped around Elizabeth City. Why would he be making his way back north? Assistant Director, I thought your agents were elsewhere.”

“They’re still in North Carolina but maybe we should give Mulder a call,” Skinner answered thoughtfully. “It was his profile that led to Buckley’s original capture.”

. . . . .

The next morning brought promise, or at least potential and hope, Scully thought as she sipped her coffee.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie and a pair of running shorts, she sat on the deck of their rented beach house. The sunrise was a lot more subdued in contrast to the previous morning. Last night had done a miracle for them by reaffirming their relationship and bond. Their respective cell phones remained respectfully silent and the local news surprisingly had no coverage about Buckley’s escape. Skinner and the brass must have been working double time to keep this quiet. She sighed and took another sip of her coffee. That was their luck, she supposed, to face unknown dangers. She just wanted to reconnect and figure out to make of this more intimate partnership with Mulder. The past months had been a little tense. Diana causing trouble, Cassandra Spender, just everything. The fought and bickered. The makeup sex had been good too but afterward, there was always the malignant unspoken tension.

Scully watched a flock of pelicans fly low across the surf information. The morning’s rosy hue danced as the waves broke onto the sandy shore. Maybe today she would inquire about the couple’s surf lessons. She never thought she would be bored on a vacation. She could not remember the last time she felt bored. Or when she took a vacation...Maine probably with that demonic doll and Mulder asking her to pick out china patterns and marriage proposals. Maybe he had been joking then but the thought of it, the very idea…

“Scully.”

Mulder, newly risen from the dead, wiped the sleep from his eyes. She smirked from behind her coffee cup at the sight of Mulder, spiky hair and scuff and all, standing in the door frame of the sliding glass door. “Well, good morning to you too, Mulder.”

“You could have woken me.” He sat on the wooden bench next to her and gave her a tired smile. “You stole my shirt.”

She studied his shirtless form, noting the sweats, before cheekily replying, “I’m not complaining about the view.”

He flashed her a smirk. “You could have woken me, Scully. You know I want to watch each and every sunrise with you.”

“Romantic, Mulder. You should have been a poet.”

“Maybe I was in another life but I save myself for all the colorful language and exploits in our case reports.” A soft kiss on her cheek startled her. “You still should have woken me.”

“You needed to sleep after that spectacular performance. Do you want me to get you a cup?”

“I’m good for now. I just wanted to talk, Scully. Just for a moment.”

“Shoot.”

“We’re okay, right?”

“Why? Is there something wrong?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Mulder.”

“This vacation if we can call it that…”

“Why all this insecurity? I thought we settled that last night.”

“We are but you know how I always think. It never stops.” He shrugged and looked out over the horizon. “With everything.”

Ah. The unspoken everything that included the emotional baggage of two lifetimes. “You’re the psychologist.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Talk to me,” she challenged. “We have always been on the verge of something, haven’t we? Remember the night in Bellefleur when I rushed into your room to check for abduction marks? Or right after my abduction when that town’s mayor wouldn’t stop congratulating us on our honeymoon?”

‘“I fail to see where you are getting at, Scully.”

“You crossed half the world to save me,” she continued. “Not everyone would do that. I feel like we’ve been chasing a common goal that everyone sees but us.”

“You’re my partner.” Her admonishing eyebrow let her know his bluff was useless. “I loved you before that. I can’t remember. Your abduction I think is when I realized it. I remember sitting in my apartment, messing with your cross, unable to sleep. I thought about suicide during that time too. Especially when you came back and everyone was ready to give up on you.” Scully took Mulder’s hand. He brought her knuckles to his mouth and kissed her soundly.

“I had felt the same. I was thinking about that this morning about how we both always had some sort of feelings for each other, how we loved each other before finally admitting it. Before any knowledge of another lifetime. We were are already in love, Mulder.”

“What’s your point?”

“Was the past already ruling our present then? And don’t go saying subconsciously.”

“My subconscious thoughts are filled with things we can do in the office.” That warranted a smile from her. “I beg for you to just tell me where your thought process is leading because I am not really following.”

“You’re so dense sometimes,” she laughed. “The point is, to me, is that the past doesn’t write our futures, Mulder. That is what I am trying to say. I cannot refute what we’ve experienced over the past few months but I know what the present is, I know what we have now.”

He nodded and sensed that was the end of the topic for the time being. He sat next to her on the deck bench and wrapped an arm around her and wrapped her legs over his lap. He caressed her exposed legs. “I’m thinking you may be right. Just this once.”

“Just this once?”

“Maybe. I like it when we’re like this, Scully.”

She rested her head against his shoulder as they watched another ocean sunrise. “We do have this, Mulder.”

“Not all the time…”

“Remember what I said about not letting the past write our present? We may not be married in this life but there is no one else I consider to be my…”

“What?”

“Whatever we are, Mulder.” She squeezed his hand in acknowledgment. “Remember, we have now. And surfing lessons today.”

He chuckled. “I can’t believe you talked me into surf lessons.”

“You should do fine after your performance last night. I have complete faith in you.”

His laughter made her heart feel lighter as they enjoyed another sunrise together.

. . . . . . . . .

Happiness is fleeting. Fuck that. I’ve been good. I should have had Dana back as my wife but instead, that bastard still has her. Mulder...fucking Mulder. Somehow, he always gets the girl. Mind my time like last time but I won’t make the same mistakes.

. . . . . . . . .

“Scully, do I really have to wear this?”

Mulder fidgeted uncomfortably in the wetsuit that he wore and he had been thankful that Scully had persuaded the surf instructor to do by the privacy of their beach house instead of out in some random beach access point. He could tell she was amused by his struggles as she tried to hide a smile from behind her hand. Her cheeks were turning red from laughter. “You’ll be fine. It’s very form fitting and it looks good on you.”

“Just form fitting?” He tried to adjust the tightness he felt lower. “It’s like a body bag.”

“It’s more like a second skin,” she corrected softly.

“How come you don’t have to wear anything underneath?”

“I could but I’m a modest Catholic, remember? Now, why don’t you go down to the beach and wait for me? I’ll be right down.”

“Scully, for the record, this gives me a wedgie,” he mumbled before he left for the beach. She watched him walk away pulling at his ass. Scully hid a smile behind her hand. “I can’t wait for you to worm your way into your own little thing.”

Down at the beach, Mulder saw a young man with two separate longboards wearing his own wetsuit. “Hi, Fox,” the young man greeted enthusiastically. He shook Mulder’s hand. “Ready?”

“Almost. And it’s Mulder. I hate it when people call me Fox,” he replied.

“No problem. My name is Lucas by the way” The young surfing instructor did not annoy Mulder at all and he was pleasantly surprised by the man’s professionalism. “Are we still waiting on your girlfriend?”

“My partner will be done in a bit,” he clarified.

The instructor nodded and he surveyed Mulder with a curious eye. “It’s unusual for us to get requests for surf lessons this early in the year. Most tourists wait until April or May.”

“Well, we normally don’t get a chance to go on vacations together,” he answered coyly. “And we wanted to do something fun.”

“Besides,” Scully’s voice carried from behind him. “I grew up surfing California when my dad was stationed out there. This one here…” She took Mulder’s arm affectionately. “Is from Massachusetts and never got a chance to try it.”

“The only time to surf Massachusetts in during the winter. I took a gnarly surf trip with some friends up to New Jersey in the winter and it was amazing. Whereabouts up there?”

“The Vineyard and you would have to be crazy to go out in the dead of winter,” Mulder answered.

“You’re plenty that,” Scully murmured under her breath just for him to hear.

Mulder felt his heart swell with affectionate on. Lucas clapped his hands together excitedly. “Let’s get started, huh? Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Scully volunteered.

. . . . . . .

The water was freezing and it took Mulder a good twenty minutes to adjust to it. He stood near the wave breaks watching Scully paddle out on the longboard and Lucas swim alongside her. He watched them exchange some words and without any assistance, Scully paddled the surfboard into position and easily sat on the board, waiting patiently. Mulder smiled. Scully had been holding out on him; she was a natural. A small wave began to close in and she instinctively popped up and rode the wave effortlessly towards the shore before a slight miscalculation caused her to lose her balance and tumble into the break. Mulder rushed, doing his best to swim/wade towards her as she emerged laughing happily. He wrapped her arms around his neck so she could stand easier which caused her to laugh all the more.

How long had it been since he had heard laughter like that from her? “You okay?”

“Yes,” she continued to laugh. She drew him close for a kiss before the surf washed the surfboard in further towards the shore and her along with it. She tightened her arms around her neck and continued. “I forgot about the leash.”

“You sure this isn’t your first time?” Lucas asked excitedly as he swam back towards them. “You’re a natural.”

“I grew up in San Diego as a teenager. It’s kind of a requirement.”

“Oh, man. I love it out there. The last time I was out there had some awesome surf.”

Scully nodded. “It is beautiful out there.”

Mulder made a mental note to go beach next time they had a case out there. “Well, Mulder, it looks like Dana it down. Why don’t we get the other surfboard on you, Mulder?”

“Scully is doing such a good job…”

“Mulder, quit being such a baby,” Scully admonished. She was already gathering the surfboard to swim back out. “Hey, Lucas, don’t forget the disposable camera. I want to remember this.”

Mulder’s face blanched in horror. “Scully, no.”

“We can never have enough memories, Mulder.”

That was the end of it. The exception of Scully’s endless laughter, the rest of the day progressed into a blur for Mulder as he tried to learn the futile art of surfing and instead mastered the art of falling face first into the surf. Towards the middle of the afternoon, one particularly nasty fall that caused him to roll his shoulder and end their day at the beach. Despite the pain from his injury, Mulder could not remember a happier day in the longest time.

. . . . . . . .

That evening, Scully padded softly to the kitchen back into the living room with a new ice pack for his shoulder. The television played softly in the background as Mulder lay on the couch. The shoulder injury wasn’t too severe and he would eventually be fine. Nothing that a good night’s sleep would not fix. Mulder lay on the couch and got up slightly to make room for her at the end. “Do you want a pillow?” she asked.

“No,” Mulder mumbled drowsily.

He awkwardly curled up on the couch like a child with his head in Scully’s lap. She smiled absently as her fingers raked through his hair and pressed the ice pack against his shoulder. He hissed in response. “If you weren’t showing off your boyish agility today,” she whispered, “you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“I think you just wanted to show off,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

“Me either. Are you having fun, Mulder, despite the injury?”

“Hearing you laugh, genuinely laugh, and have my personal doctor take care of me? What could be better, Scully.”

She smiled and propped her feet up on the coffee table as they settled in to watched the local news for the evening without a care in the world and just relished being in each other’s company.


End file.
